


An Aftermath

by WerepuppyBlack



Category: Mighty Morphin Power Rangers, Power Rangers Mystic Force, Power Rangers Samurai, Power Rangers Wild Force
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-05 18:42:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1828327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WerepuppyBlack/pseuds/WerepuppyBlack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Earth had Ranger teams before Jason, Zack, Trini, Billy, and Kimberly were chosen. Did any of them know there were others? Did they have any contact with each other? Did any of those teams influence Zordon's choices and decisions, or Ninjor's reluctance to help the Rangers at first?</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tsukino_Akume](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsukino_Akume/gifts).



> Okay, I am sorry but due to things in life being a little more ... hectic and crazy than anticipated, this story is not as long as I would have initially liked it to be. However, I am hoping that it is an enjoyable read, and managed to - somehow - give you something akin to what the summary suggests. However disjointed it feels.

More people mourned the lost of Zordon than his Rangers were aware of. More than just they had been touched by the being's influence, and while he may not have had a direct hand in events that were to come, it was to be certain that his touch could be felt reaching back into the centuries, and reaching forwards for the teams still yet to be.

* * *

A new family to a large city looked up; the Mother and the Father aware of everything that was happening. It was on Zordon's word that their ancestors had made their families travel all over the world, eventually settling here in the United States. This had not been their fight, but they had fought, battled against the enemies that stood before them, belaying the harsh worry of the enemies yet to come. They had not known his name, the ones who started the family travelling, but they knew he was in possession of great knowledge, and they hoped it to be tempered by great wisdom. Did they know then, what would come of their family? No, the current Mother and Father did not think so, but still... They bowed their heads, muttered respects being paid towards the being their ancestors considered great. All things have a time, and all things end. Perhaps this was his time. But it was not yet theirs.

* * *

Rootcore was still healing, and Udonna with it. She stumbled slightly in her walk when she felt the wave of power pass, hand bracing herself against the reliable trunk of a steady tree. So, he had made the ultimate sacrifice. She wondered if he felt the fear his young Rangers had felt all those years ago, or if he had prepared for every possible scenario. She suspected the latter, but did not think it impossible that fear did not pass through the great being; no one was infallible after all. The citizens of Rootcore had offered their help, once before, but their magic was nothing against the Empress of Evil. Even combined, they could only hope to make a brief dent in her forces, to allow Zordon's Rangers the change of attack. Since then, well, Udonna couldn't blame Zordon for becoming less inclined to reach out for help. Focusing more on increasing the power of the team itself seemed to lead to less heartache, and she felt that they had all been through enough of that.

Still touching the tree, she closed her eyes, muttering words under her breath. This was a simple magic, requiring no wand, but it still took concentration. The power flowed through her hand, spreading through the tree and up, out into the world. Let it be found by those who needed it, let it help them with their grief, and let it heal their wounds. Magic could not solve all things, but for a rare few... it could help to ease some pain.

* * *

In the Animarium, Princess Shayla woke from her sleep, if only briefly, to stare out at the night sky. It had been nearly 3,000 years – give or take a few decades – since the last Great War that her people had participated in, and it seemed as though the humans had just experienced another. If the Legendary Knights were there... But why did her mind focus on the things that could not be, things that would only cause her further torment. She sat on her lounge, and looked out at the glory that was her home. Did it matter, to have such glory but to share it with none? Zordon had asked her that; once; when looking to her Legendary Knights to fight as his Rangers in what seemed to be a forever-lasting battle against the forces of evil. Shayla was optimistic, but she was no fool. As long as there was good in the world, there would be evil as well. All things in nature had to have some sort of balance, and this was no different.

The Knights were sworn to the protection of the Animarium, and refused to go. Shayla would not convince them otherwise, despite Zordon's repeated askings. He had not visited since. Even in her sleep, she had heard the whispers of the teams he had found; all young people; all much too young to truly understand the war they were thrown into. She looked to where she knew the Animal Zords would be waiting, and the recurring worry of who they would choose re-entered her mind. Zordon had chosen much too young; when the time came, let her Rangers know something of the world.

* * *

Ninjor felt the blast, and wondered at his non-surprise. He had seen the work of Zordon for many centuries, to the point where he could hand-pick the type of warrior the being would chose to be his soldiers in the ever on-going war. He remembered a team, perhaps a little younger than those he had recently helped. They had been eager, filled with the youthful arrogance of right being on their side, and good always triumphing over evil. Their leader had been barely taller than the Pink Ranger of Zordon's latest troupe he had met. She was eager, wanting to prove herself worthy of the colour red. He remembered how she had ran head first into the battle, how she had screamed the loudest and fought the hardest. She fell the hardest as well, and Ninjor still mourned for her, for that entire team. They were nothing more than children, nothing more than innocent children who did not have the full story of the war they had been recruited for.

When he met the latest team, he did not want to help. But then they came further, they proved themselves stronger. And maybe... just maybe they had a chance of succeeding. Of living and avenging those who had come before them, though they would never know their names. Zordon was not unkind, and he did mourn for those he had lost, but he did so in such a private manner than none would believe him possible of the grief that comes with the loss. Ninjor wished for the being to learn to express these feelings in an more open manner, but he knew it was not possible.

Still he would help, how he could. He would give them the assistance they needed. It was all he could do.

* * *

In a small bar, someone leaning against the bar-top straightened slightly. If anyone had paid attention, they would have noticed their eyes glowing, just slightly, for a moment. As soon as the glowing had started the eyes were screwed shut, a tear squeezing it's way from the corner. This person was old before their time, and ther hands shook as they cupped the small glass in front of them, raising it discreetly in a silent toast. Their friends had died fighting but now... now they might rest in peace. Let the Power rest with them.

* * *

Zordon's influence was wide, and far reaching. His Rangers were accepted as the originals, the ones who lead was to be followed. But they were not the only ones with connections to the being. There were ones before him, ones who had sacrificed their lives for some sort of gaining of ground in the battle against evil. Maybe it was the latest crop who had managed it, but none would forget the originals. None would forgot the one who had brought them the power. None would forget Zordon. But more importantly, those who knew, wouldn't forget who came before.


End file.
